


Choose For Yourself

by dianamolloy



Category: Jaguar "British Villains" Commercial, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bratting, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Drunk Driving, F/M, Knifeplay, Masturbation, Sex Positive, Sex Work, Slut Shaming, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Vaginal Sex, plus size
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-04-26 08:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14398212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianamolloy/pseuds/dianamolloy
Summary: Thomas Pine, Second in Command of criminal organisation Jaguar SS Plc. is entertaining some new clients at a private Gentlemen’s Club.Megan works there as a dancer and escort.





	1. This Isn’t a Job

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags, there’s some asshole behaviour and nasty comments. Men eh, misogynistic wankers (though no shit talk from Thomas).
> 
> The model is Alessandra Garcia but has been edited to be larger.
> 
> Fat bodies are awesome and I hope you like the story. Every writer loves comments, so if you have the time they’re appreciated.

Rules, laws even, were incredibly lax in certain spaces if you were rich, powerful or attractive enough, Thomas Pine had the benefit of being in possession of the trifecta. That explained the very visible drugs on shiny surfaces within Brooks, an exclusive, extremely expensive with highly limited membership Gentlemen’s Club where the only women allowed were the employed dancers and escorts in London’s SW1. This wasn't his preferred type of club, not that he was against paying for sex, it was pragmatic in his position to remain unattached and treating his sexual desires as business transactions made sense but in the main Brooks's catered to far more vanilla tastes, which didn't tie-in with Thomas' predilections.

However, for the Second in Command of Jaguar SS Plc, a criminal organisation which extended beyond its cars, feared in England and known within Europe, largely thanks to the work he himself was doing with offshore clientele to expand their reach, it suited him to keep work and pleasure quite separate. Those whom expressed an interest in something less typical, well Thomas had a few locations he would take them to that wasn't his main haunt. 

Decorated with very deep polished wood panelling, and forrest green, wallpapered walls above the stained oak, the lights were kept low and the music sultry in this, one of the private rooms. Forming a C shape and in sumptuous chocolate leather - wipeable - high-backed, comfortable seating surrounded a pole which was on a low-raised stage with a walkway, wide enough to allow for two or three girls at a time. There were also a couple of individual armchairs, for more intimate dances. Or blow-jobs, full service could, did and was charged for in these rooms but it was more common to be taken to a hotel somewhere than full on fuck any patrons in the club. Again, the club took a hefty cut. Capitalism was a bitch.

Free flowing, top shelf alcohol was being drunk at what many would consider an alarming pace, Thomas himself was on his second, and last, scotch of the night. It was often deemed rude to not participate in the drugs so he had snorted a couple of lines, nothing that would impair, if anything his senses felt sharper and more crystaline in that way that only cocaine - or sociopathy - gave. And he wasn't the latter. Work was not discussed, firstly because despite the chatter dulling music and otherwise occupied women dancing in front of them, it was careless to assume they would catch nothing and if there was one thing Thomas was not it was careless. Another good reason was his guests were also far too inebrietated and disinterested by this point, which was why the nitty gritty details had been ironed out earlier in a suite, though not at the hotel he had arranged, by way of his assistant, for their stay. Polish was the language being spoken, Thomas fluent himself, by all but one of them, the most senior of the quartet looking to impress with his own language skills despite his clunky grammar and the heavily accented tone of his English.

Megan was circling her hips in time to the music, a mirror image to her partner for the evening, Aalia. When she swivelled right, the other twisted left as if watching a reflection. Their actions may have been a perfect match but that was where their similarities ended; Aalia was petite, even in the neck-breaking perspex heels on her feet her eyes were level with Megan’s breasts. Deep brown skin housed a slim figure and she had a head of straight and silky chestnut hair to her butt that drove customers wild when she ran it over their bodies followed by her small tits. Tall, over five foot ten without heels - though to keep their size difference from being too ridiculous she had on strappy black sandals in a more sensible three inch - there was nothing small about Megan. Thick thighs, strong calves and she went out as much at the back with a peachy bum as she did at the front with her overhanging stomach, currently encased in high beiefs. Creamy skin a stark contrast to the mane of black hair and brilliantly bright sapphire eyes. Neither wore anything beyond underwear, Megan’s rich blue satin set had a touch of vintage glamour about it and Aalia was clad in a beige tulle with red embroidery bra and thong that made her appear essentially naked.

”Which are you going to have?” the underling directly beside asked his boss, meanwhile his left hand was stroking his erection over his smart trousers without even being aware of it.

”These whores? Piotr I don’t want my wife to catch any diseases. The small girl, she can take me in her mouth,” Antoni Lisowski replied.

It was unfortunate, or perhaps fortunate, that Megan had an interest in languages. She spoke four in addition to her native English, and Polish so happened to be included in the list and she had understood their every lewd, if not original, comments since they’d arrived. Remaining neutral in light of the insult on the other hand took some effort. It might go with the territory of her job to have to tolerate sexist slurs but that didn’t mean she had to like it and her view of men as a whole was in the toilet. From the position she was in, preparing for both her and Aalia to take to the pole, she witnessed that whilst everyone laughed, the dark haired Englishman’s eyes had narrowed initially and flickered toward them before joining in. In the dim light it was hard to be certain but whilst hers were dark, his appeared closer to topaz and she briefly mused that with their matching raven hair and towering heights their offspring would be simply gorgeous. Children weren’t especially in Megan’s plans, at thirty-one she looked four to five years younger but Brooks's management knew her age which gave her a few years left with them. However, she had amassed her own list of private patrons who paid well, behaved decently and with a couple of them it usually involved travel to magnificent locations but the real bonus would be no longer enduring creeps who were happy to visit Brooks’s, but hypocritical enough to judge her and the other women, and a few men, who worked there.

Sinking from the shiny pillar down onto her knees, Megan raised her left arm upward to allow Aalia, who was upside down with her left leg keeping her in place and the right extending out, access to her fingers which the other seductively took into her mouth. During the slide, she had taken the opportunity to warn her co-worker that Mr Big Boss wanted a bj from her in a quick whisper to allow her the time to decide. They were able to refuse whomever they wished, but Brooks’s unspoken rule was do it too often or to their most favoured members you would find yourself unemployed.

”Come on, get your clothes off and fuck her,” Piotr jeered thickly in English, tongue running back and forth against his numb teeth.

That was enough for Megan who signalled with a slight head shake for Aalia to climb down and she herded the other woman out, keeping herself between the men and her not-quite friend.

”We are paying for you sluts, you get back here,” he had taken to his feet and raised his voice but any more from him was cut off and Megan glanced sharply back at the strangled noise, Mr Boss and Baby Blue English from the looks of it had taken care of the situation. English was restraining the rude jerk and the sound of Mr Boss’s fist hitting against the man’s stomach had been masked by the music but not his groan.

Outside Megan explained to the discreet bouncer, who in a place this upmarket did not resemble the cliched image most people came up up when hearing the word, what had occurred then she and Aalia made their way toward the back of house area. It wasn’t especially late and the Asian girl was upset at the lack of additional money for the sex act. Bookings were made in such a way that allowed the employees to only have a single set of clients per night to keep them at the top of their game, and things taking a downward swing was a financial blow. Certainly it seemed as such to the younger Aalia, her genuine distress convincing Megan to have a word with one of the managers to transfer her own previous night’s additional benefits wage to Aalia’s account to cover the unexpected change of events - it had been smart and safe but she was the one who had been the lead and she had halted things costing her second several hundred pounds.

Thomas didn’t expect he would see Piotr again, Antoni had been most displeased at the man’s behaviour. Not that he had cared a single iota about the women but the lack of discretion when such vast amounts of money were involved and unlawful activity was a problem. Lisowski had declined his personal offer to have himself or his people take care of the situation and Thomas, who legally after the scotch and cocaine should not have been driving his silver CX-16 - a car which had never made it past concept and despite being a handful of years old he had a fondness for the model - was on his way to unfinished business. Smoothly gliding around a turn, Thomas drove one of only two of this car in existence, the other was kept in a showroom where every model ever made was stored.

Stretching, Megan had returned to the room from earlier. As with the workers, the private areas were not used for multiple bookings across the same day and the cleaners would not see to it until the following morning. This time she was using the pole not to tantalise but as a release of pent up energy, maybe the scumbags should no longer trouble her but they did. It was as she dismounted upside down, turning the move into a handstand that she spotted some feet followed by a pair of long legs by the closed door.

”Your booking ended, you’re not allowed back here,” Megan straightened up and sounded firm but wary, not happy she had failed to hear him enter and close the door behind him and as the room was free of clients there was no security outside it any more. “If you have an issue with how tonight went look to your buddy or speak to management”. He was gorgeous but at that moment her concern was her safety.

Regarding the brunette’s lapse in having added any further layers since his earlier visit, Thomas was impressed at her lack of embarrassment from her state of undress as she sent him on his way. Or attempted to. “He was no friend of mine. You understood them didn’t you?”

Shrugging Megan responded, “yes I understood them calling us names and accusing us of having STD’s. I mean, technically he was right about one of us.” It was professional suicide to admit this to a stranger, one who could get her fired as her records were falsified to hide the HSV-2 she kept at bay, there were almost never any flare ups with the aciclovir and she never worked on the very rare occurrences it did. “What are you waiting for?” an exasperated Megan called out when he still didn’t leave.

”I want you, little girl,” Thomas kept his voice low.

”Did you miss the part where I told you I have herpes,” so she hadn’t actually named it until then but most people who had just found out even the little she had revealed would have left. Did leave in her experience of dating when she told them.

”I won’t be fucking you bareback anyway, sadly, but are you telling me you aren’t able to, right now?”

There should have been a desire to laugh at his presumptuous statement but Megan didn’t feel like laughing, “I take the medication and I wouldn’t be at work if I couldn’t.”

Three steps was all it took for Thomas to close the gap between the two of them and when he was in front of Megan he took her waist in each of his large palms and lifted her off the stage. They were now at perfect eye level from each other due to the heel’s from her shoes. 

“What’s your name?” he asked.

”Megan,” she replied. “Yours?”

”To you? Daddy,” Thomas tried to kiss her but she pulled back.

”Fine, _daddy_. But this isn’t a job.”

This time Megan instigated the kiss, hungrily falling into it as her new daddy cupped her ass.

”Show me what you can do,” Thomas nodded his head back at the elevated walkway.

”Wouldn’t you prefer that I did from up close?” Megan rasped against his ear. 

“You don’t disobey me,” there wasn’t even time to register the speed in which Thomas clamped a fistful of hair and yanked Megan’s head back and chin up, “or that full ass of yours will be too bruised for you to work for weeks. You’re right though, dance right in front of me and let me watch what belongs to me.”

That silky voice must have called ahead for reservations, Megan couldn’t help thinking, because it went straight from her ears to her crotch in a straight line. This wasn’t amateur hour though so as Thomas settled himself on one of the singular armchairs, Megan gave everything she had in a mix of sexy and sleazy until she was completely naked, except for the shoes. And when she got down on her knees in front of him, his legs had been parted since he’d sat, and felt for the fly and complicated ways men’s suit trousers opened, she was rewarded with a stiff shaft bobbing free. No underpants. Licking her lips without even noticing she was doing so, Megan bent forward and took an exploratory lick over the spongy head before sucking it and releasing with a loud pop. The man above her’s eyes were practically black, only a thin circle the colour of the sky was still visible and when her experienced mouth formed a seal around his length and began to move, Thomas grunted in appreciation.

“Please,” Megan breathed out, disconnecting from his dick with a trail of saliva.

”Please what?” Thomas prodded.

”Let me touch myself,” they hadn’t agreed that she couldn’t, or on anything else, but Megan like anyone who had ever been a submissive knew certain rules tended to be unspoken, even in this Top/bottom one-off.

”Spread your legs wider...good girl. Run a hand along your slit and show me if you’re glossy.”

She was.

“Slip your fingers between those swollen lips Megan, I want to watch your whole hand become covered in your slick,” Megan whimpered from his words as much as the feeling in her pussy and when she brought her hand back up to show him he praised her once more, the warm flush of it running through her and making her wetter. “Now stop, and once you've coated my cock in your juices from that messy hand get back to sucking it.” 

Working as she did didn’t allow for this feeling, it wasn’t safe and sure she could play the part but inside she was always in control of herself. At this moment though, her glazed eyes and reverent position were real and the desire to please this temporary daddy true. It was that expression, the utter look of subservience that left Thomas’ cock twitching inside her mouth as she maintained eye contact.

Without speaking Thomas took the top of each forearm and tugged, Megan understanding what he wanted climbed him and waiting for the condom to be opened and rolled over him, foil packet discarded, made for an agonising wait. So when he finally penetrated her, Megan’s back arched leaving her nipple just by his mouth in a way that couldn’t be ignored. A hiss turned into a noise of pain as Thomas roughly sucked the engorged little nub, his sharp teeth worrying the skin. In that moment she couldn’t have said what hurt more, his size filling and stretching her or those nipping pearly whites. Skin on skin contact only occurred when Thomas touched her, he was still dressed in his fine woollen suit, parts of which grazed along her clit and made her come run from her over his sac as she contracted and yelled. The sound of her own flesh slapping against itself made for a devilish accompaniment to the bass.

”I could fuck you over and over for hours baby girl, but I don’t think this room will remain empty. Daddy is going to come now, I’m going to empty myself inside your greedy, velvety cunt,” that was enough for Megan who pressed her open mouth against his shoulder to dampen the noise of a scream and at the same time, even with the latex sheath, she could feel him spurt, regretting the barrier that dulled the sensation.

The next afternoon Megan was woken by the door, sleepily answering it with hair askew and in an old tshirt she looked completely different to the night before. She and Thomas had cleaned up as best they could in that room and said their farewells, he had been polite and friendly and they parted with a full kiss. Signing for the small parcel from the private courier she padded to her kitchen and opened the small box; on the top was a handwritten card, “ _this isn’t payment, T_ ”, and beneath it were two stunning, brilliant cut sapphire earrings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been playing with wanting to write a positive sw story for a year but it didn’t fit any of my current stories and then Megan appeared.
> 
> So, sex work is work, we need to decriminalise it (not legalise it’s not what sw’s want for many reasons which you can research) to keep sex workers safer,  
> and FOSTA/SESTA is bad bc it conflates all sw with trafficking.  
> (https://www.thedailybeast.com/sex-workers-fear-for-their-future-how-sesta-is-putting-many-prostitutes-in-peril)
> 
> STD’s are fine to have, there’s no shame and let’s fight stigma because whether you got it from your first sexual encounter and have been with one person only ever or you have no idea how you got it - though not all sw’s will have them in fact they’re are less likely to - it’s all ok/fine/cool. So then why add it to this story? Because it’s weaponised against others, especially those who either do sw or who are seen as having sex that falls outside of sexist faux morality wank and they’re seen as ‘dirty’. Well actually I wanted someone to have them and it’s not made into a thing. I’ve slept with various people with herpes and other STD’s, it wasn’t a big deal, during H flare ups we modified what we did sexually if they were up to it and I’ve not caught it but if I ever had it happens.


	2. A Partnership

"No," Megan muttered out loud as she pulled her phone out and saw the familiar name of her father pass the LCD screen and sent him straight to voicemail before sliding the device back into her black winter coat pocket. Not dad, that's not how he was saved but as John. Pace turning from unhurried stroll to something with more stomp from her change in mood, Megan continued on her way down the London road she was on, swerving tourists and ignoring the cat-call from the scaffolding on what used to be a Byron restaurant and was now a gutted shell. So much for the sign identifying it as a 'considerate construction' site, she thought with an eyeroll as she ignored it. Her job necessitated her compliance toward men who lacked manners but in her own time she didn't even deign them with her attention, her thumb and forefinger on her left hand stroked at her ear then where the sapphire earrings she'd worn most days since summer were and a ghost of a smile played on Megan's lips in a reminder that she wasn't disdainful toward  _all_ men. Until the phone rang a second time and the corners of her mouth pinched in annoyance, though this time there was a different name - Michael, her father's employee who she knew from experience would keep calling and to add to how the afternoon was turning out she felt a drizzle of rain pepper her face as she ducked under a cafe doorway

"What?" Megan's voice was annoyance personified.

"You missed a call from your father," Michael himself also dispensing with the politeness of a greeting.

"I did no such thing, I  _ignored_ a call from John, Michael. There's a difference," Megan refused to refer to him as anything but his name yet Michael called him her father when speaking with Megan and so the two played this silly game, the inflection of their words creating digs whenever they spoke, which both ensured was as infrequently as possible. Megan would have preferred it to be never.

"Your presence on Friday evening has become more than the usual, ignored, monthly request," Michael moved swiftly on, too busy to want to spend any longer on the phone than was absolutely necessary. 

"I'm busy Michael, I'm working on Friday. Mark me down as absent and send the meeting minutes via email," that last part was a joke, a business of their size would have minutes taken for all gatherings but they were kept encrypted on an internal server, not accessible outside of the main offices in Whitley, Coventry.

"I'm sure just this once you can disappoint a few married businessmen from seeing you take your clothes off before making their use of you,” the words intended to embarrass.

"Fuck you," Megan spat out, caught unaware that Michael had know about her job. But of course he did, and so would John. She wasn't offended by his barb at what she did, Megan was more than used to those kinds of insults. What she minded was that try as she might she couldn't escape their radar; not by moving away, not in taking a job she didn't need if she would use the family money in an industry that most wouldn't approve of and not by refusing everything to do with the business she had grown up around.

"There's a board vote Megan, you own thirty percent."

"I. Don't. Care. Falsify my vote, mark me there and put down anything you like Michael the way you have for years. I'm not involved."

"Eight o'clock Friday. Make your own way or take the car that will be sent to collect you," with that he hung up.

Megan wanted to swear, to throw her phone and smash it to the ground and make her way to the airport, getting on a plane heading Far AwayTM and say fuck the consequences. She didn't, because she knew those consequences would have her back in England, back in Coventry -and the small freedom she had carved for herself would be gone- within days. Likely in time for her to be present at the damn meeting. Instead Megan stepped out of the doorway, it was properly raining now and with a defeated air about her hailed a black cab to take her home, the chores she'd planned on completing forgotten and irrelevant. 

-

Through rush hour traffic Megan had calculated it could take over three hours to make the familiar journey and she knew well enough that her vote wasn't her own, John would want to brief her on what she was supposed to do and so Megan, along the dress she planned on wearing in its dry cleaning bag, carrying a hold-all climbed into the backseat of the Nissan Path Finder she had booked along with driver, ignoring the vehicle parked on the double yellow line outside her flat which she knew was for her that Friday afternoon. 

Anxious energy coursed through her the whole way there and not her phone, nor watching the scenery and occasional sheep or horse could keep her attention. Even an attempt to do a spot of online shopping had failed to keep Megan’s interest, she was too distracted to settle on anything. Mostly she just fidgeted, tapping her short but manicured navy nails against the window which served only to make her further tense and in turn annoyed the driver who was too professional to say anything though both were grateful when he pulled at the front of the headquarters of Land Rover Ltd.

On reception was a face she didn’t recognise and as such the pretty girl with freckles on her nose didn’t know her in return. Had Megan been Micheal she would have walked straight in and been disdainful of not being recognised by name alone, as it was she had both manners and a gladness that the faces around her were mostly unfamiliar. Had Megan been Michael she would not have dressed in dark jeans and a grey slouchy jumper that was askew on one shoulder.

Who knew, she wondered. Not the receptionist but did that older blonde who assuredly walked past, did the man in his thirties with the red silk pocket square that clashed with his blue shirt with the full beard. Nearing seven pm there were few other staff to be seen which was just as well it wasn’t a game Megan was enjoying. An assistant in a cream pant suit came out to greet Megan, another stranger to her this one a redhead with impeccable cosmetic work, and led her to the lifts where they waited in silence and rode it to the top floor. This woman probably knew, Megan flickered her eyes side-ways - John’s PA would need to be briefed to be an aid to him. She couldn’t help playing who was normal and who wasn’t even if all it had done was tighten the knot in her stomach. Allowing herself to be taken to what she recognised as her father’s office, Megan wasn’t surprised to find it empty.

”Your father is finishing up a phone call to L.A., he’ll come meet you once he’s done. Would you like anything while you wait?” Father. Yep, she knew. Megan asked for a coffee, which seemed in hindsight a terrible idea for her stretched thin nerves, and had finished the rich liquid when John walked in. The unnamed PA had taken Megan’s dress and carry-on bag away ahead of bringing her the espresso cup. 

Extending his hand as if greeting a colleague and not his only daughter Megan took it automatically. It had been seven years since she had been in this building, six since she had last met with her father in person. At six foot three John Rover was an intimidating man and in his sixties he was no less imposing than someone half his age. More so. His face wasn’t excessively lined but the ones which existed showed a calculated man. The pair shared the same deep blue eyes and John’s once black hair was salt and pepper now but still thick.

”Why couldn’t the vote go the way it has for the last six years?” John wasn’t going to waste time on playing catch-up, Megan knew the man well enough that she might as well cut to the chase.

”Financially we’ve not been doing as well as we once were,” John motioned for Megan to take her seat again on the cream sofa to the side of his desk as he unbuttoned his dark grey suit jacket and sat across from her in an armchair, which if it was anything like the sofa looked far better than it felt to rest on.

“You know what they say, crime doesn’t pay,” Megan quipped and regretted it when John’s expression showed he was evidently in no mood for her sass.

”Oh Megan, you know first hand that it does,” there came the jibe that made her wish she had kept her mouth shut. She absolutely did, intimately so. And she had walked away from it. “However, we haven’t the capital required to expand quite in the way I wish to and I’ve been in negotiations with a third-party to secure that.”

”Why do you need to?” Megan said, taken aback by the news that this was no regular board AGM. Not to be confused with the legit side of the business whose full GM required the hire of a conference hall and included presentations, awards and Megan would have refused to attend. “You’re almost seventy, mum is dead. Retire, take up golf, find a second wife, anything but more of this!”

”Don’t you dare bring up your mother so glibly,” John quietly thundered, he didn’t need to raise his voice to be frightening, though for Megan it was a side she had rarely ever seen prior to 2011. She should back off, that would be the wisest thing to do but Megan had inherited her father’s temper as well as his looks. And for a time his nature.

“Don’t I dare? I at least had enough shame to see what we were and leave when she died. Some sense that this life is wrong.”

”Against Anna’s wishes you ran away. She wanted you at my side after she passed, those last weeks, before the cancer affected her mind, you know she signed the majority of her shares to you and why.”

Megan’s eyes filled with tears at these mentions of her mother but didn’t shed them. It was true, Anna Rover hadn’t gained a conscience on her deathbed - she along with John had no guilt at the criminal organisation life they led, they had brought Megan into the fold with no second thought. And Megan, who was smart and resourceful and who listened had already had some idea prior and had shown no qualms once she had the full picture. The shame that had driven her away wasn’t morality, it was the awareness at a lack thereof.

”Yes I ran away, and I want to keep running. Draw up the papers for me to sign so you can take it all back. _Please_ dad,” in that moment she wasn’t a grown woman but instead a child talking to her parent.

”You will be relinquishing part of your stake this evening, as will I and so will Michael so in a roundabout way you’ll get your wishes somewhat,” John had chosen to ignore Megan’s plea. “Our new investors like the idea of a united family which is why you had to be here.”

”So why is Michael attending, you might treat him like the son you never had but he’s not.”

”Michael is a filler, a cog. Nothing more,” John shrugged.

”Nothing more except he owns 10% of Land Rover,” Megan bit back. She didn’t care in truth if he and her father held a 50:50 split as long as she could be free of it all. It was a pointless argument to prod for the sake of it, a habit. She didn’t even know why she was doing it, it was strange being around John again, it had left her off kilter.

”And it has made him deeply indebted to me,” glancing at his Rolex wristwatch John took to his feet. “I have to greet our guests. Your bags were placed in your mother’s old office, the one I hoped you would take. We’ll be in boardroom three, Alicia will show you to it.”

With a sigh Megan replied, “there’s no need. I remember where it is, and mum’s office. You think I’d forget?” That hurt her feelings, even though it shouldn’t have.

”It’s been a long time, Megan,” for a second he sounded tired but then the mask came back down. It hadn’t always been this way, the opposite was true, she had been close to both her parents and they’d doted on her. Until her mother had died and Megan turned her back on her father and their world. That betrayal had hurt him Megan was certain and it was why he had reciprocated in kind. His only reason for not allowing her to cut all ties was to punish her not to change her mind.

Alicia had attempted to do as she’d been told but Megan had shooed her away, not especially kindly she realised but didn’t have it in her to care. Nothing had changed in her mother’s office, it was immaculate but as she’d left it, as if Anna would walk in the following Monday and sit on her white leather recliner. It was in the private bathroom that Megan allowed herself the tears she’d denied, crying quietly as she undressed. In her underwear she had splashed her face and lent forward toward the mirror, fixing on a flawless face and red lips that hid the sad, scared girl. By the time she had pulled up her thigh-high stockings and stepped into the black, sleeveless silk dress with the demure knee length skirt which had a cut vent that showed quite a lot of thigh from the back when she walked she was the woman she would need to be to get through the evening. Elegant, beautiful and self-assured.

As part of her job Alicia has waited for Megan, knowing the younger woman would pass her on her way to the lifts. Megan swallowed a cross word when she saw Alicia and allowed her to lead, what did it matter to her. The outfit, the same way her drawers of skimpy underwear created its own version of a uniform, had allowed Megan to act as if this were a role she was playing to distance herself. The lie had almost been bought by herself until Alicia pulled the heavy oak door open on the ground floor and she spied Baby Blue English talking to her father and Michael, his eyes locking with hers from across the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t mean to come back to Megan but she had a lot to say! So much so Thomas only got a look-in at the end. And the next chapter will be going straight back to where this left off so expect awkwardness, sexual tension and fucking <3


	3. No Bad Deed Goes Unpunished

_Oh fuck_. Megan assumed she had merely thought it but judging by the turn of Alicia's head she had actually verbalised her cursing. This was...unexpected didn't begin to cover it and Megan wanted to turn on her heel and do what she should have done when Michael had called her, or when packing, as she got into the car and any one of the many opportunities she could have taken to not be here. John was motioning to her, a smile that Megan was caught off guard to see reached his eyes, that certainly was not the expression he'd held six years ago, she had forgotten the warmth it gave her. 

Her two worlds were not meant to touch, they were separate - in fact she wasn't even part of one of them so there was no reason to find herself in this situation. There was still time to absolutely leg it Megan argued with herself; she danced pole, there wouldn't even be a need to kick off her high heels and damn the consequences so long as she was as far as possible from this room and this man she had compartmentalised as belonging to the saner part of her life, whose gift she wore in her ears and who was chatting away to her father. Despite this her legs were taking her toward the trio and she wondered would he notice if she quickly palmed the sapphire earrings but came to the conclusion that she was far too close, so close her own hand had extended out and she was shaking his hand with a strained smile.

"My daughter, Megan," John introduced her. "And this is Thomas Pine, the C.O.O of Jaguar SS Plc."

Thomas. So that was his name. She had only known him as Daddy.

"A pleasure to meet you," that velvety sound which had made her cunt contract repeatedly both in the summer and since sounded exactly the same, she hadn't exaggerated the suaveness or timbre in her mind when she would replay their encounter with her eyes closed and her fingers inside herself. 

Right, he was going for strangers. He couldn't not remember her, surely. Gorgeous though he might be that he could have a different woman every night, Megan refused to believe she was forgettable.

"And you. I thought you looked somewhat familiar when I came in but I must be mistaken. In this business I meet such a number people it's hard to keep track unless they're memorable in some way," she was no blushing virgin and had no shame in either her escort job or high sex drive, if Thomas wished to play it this way then she would return the snub even if it was an outright lie. Megan wasn't especially one to rate lovers, there was no top ten, but there were a few names and faces who made her rotation when she wanted to take care of herself and since their encounter nobody else had gotten a look in. Metaphorically. She wasn't a nun.

Doing her best to maintain small talk led by Michael, Megan nodded and made noises of agreement whenever her input was required as she stood in a slight daze. Christmas was on the horizon and the conversation turned to the event and Michael, who had no idea he was boring the group and despite them all being criminals were all too British to tell him, brought up his girlfriend and that the two of them intended to travel over the holidays but that he was struggling for an appropriately sumptuous but small gift. "You should task Megan to help, something akin to those sapphire earrings would be easy to keep on your person," Thomas interjected, unable to ignore the opportunity that landed wrapped in his lap as well as stopping the bore and his chattering. He remembered, Megan internally groaned. She decided to upgrade her _oh fuck_ to an _oh shitting fuck_. Thomas excused himself, Ben had re-entered the boardroom, leaving prior to Megan’s arrival to take a phone call and the younger man approached his boss.

From Jaguar there were five men in attendance, Thomas, Ben Kingsley the C.E.O, Mark Strong the C.F.O, a senior commercial lawyer called Jake Cooper and finally, a discreet, slim gentleman whose job was politely dubbed security. There were more accurate names that could have been used, more frightening ones.

Land Rover's board consisted of the three shareholders and one additional man and woman, both that while remunerated obscenely didn't hold a stake; Megan recognised the man's face as being the head of their legal department but the woman was new to her. 

"When we insisted you attend, it was not so you could insult our new partners," Michael hissed when the three of them were alone. The man who had been in his late-twenties when Megan saw him last was now firmly in his thirties and with a face full of hair, which was why she hadn't recognised him as the ill attired man from earlier. Plus the big beard. He of course would have known her and had chosen not to approach and Megan would have laughed when she'd spotted him and the penny dropped but Baby Blue..., no, Thomas, well his presence had been more striking.

"Pull your teeth back or afterwards I might show you what happens to rude little boys, only in your case it's not going to be any fun," if Michael wanted to throw her job in her face Megan would in turn it to her favour. She didn't do any pro-domme work it so happened, she wasn't suited to it, but it wasn't as if Michael would be aware to that level of detail. "We? Thank you for reminding me I own thirty percent, Michael. What about you, it was ten wasn’t it?" Megan didn't stay to watch Michael's face turn puce nor did she notice John's look of approval at the glimmer of his old daughter, even if it was just a shard of spite and none of the usual steel. Despite her raised head Megan felt very differently to her words and wanted to be away from the men, not enjoying the sniping which came with talking to Michael. The two had met after she was living in London, a replacement in her absence whose over familiarity with John had initially rankled her but as Megan had carved a life for herself she found she cared very little, and yet the walls she had carefully built suddenly seemed less stable having returned to Coventry.

Ben's presence signalled a change in atmosphere, the idle chatter dying down and the eleven people in the room, Alicia had stayed, took their seats. John spoke first, making a speech about new ventures, what they could achieve together and so on which Megan paid little attention to, her eyes drifting to Thomas who at the walnut rectangle table they were positioned around was across from her but one. The navy blazer Thomas had been wearing he had stripped off before sitting down, leaving him in the matching trousers and waistcoat with a white shirt and burgundy tie. On Michael the red and blue combination looked garish, his choices clashing but on Thomas the hues he'd worn lined up perfectly.

Each company took a side at the table and John had elected to not be at the head, something Megan knew he always otherwise would do but instead sat across from the person who was clearly charge at Jaguar. After tonight Jaguar would own forty percent of Land Rover; John was relinquishing twenty, Megan fifteen and Michael five. Jaguar had a strong market, legal and not, in Europe and parts of North America but Land Rover was well respected in the Indian market whose military budget was in the world's top five, the sole reason they weren't the only go-to organisation was they simply were not large enough, they lacked the manpower to orchestrate and supply beyond a certain level and as of tonight that was changing. Unsurprisingly the contracts involved for such a merger were hefty and detailed, both parties had already had them revised numerous times by their own legal teams but nevertheless it was after eleven when they concluded.

-

John had arranged for a late supper to celebrate at a private dining room in Simpsons, a Michelin starred restaurant in nearby Birmingham and Megan in discovering this knew that she would not be joining them. She had done her duty, her bad deed already punished by Thomas being a part of this, and all she wanted to do was contact the driver and accompanying car she had leased to collect her. Even if she wouldn't get back into London until the early hours, Megan knew it would be worth it to put tonight, and this county, behind her.

During the lull where phones were checked, emails responded to and casual chatter went on, Megan approached John once his conversation with Alicia ended. "While you all head into Birmingham I'm going to make my way home. I came, I smiled and I signed. I think you can agree I've fulfilled my obligation," she could tell John wasn't going to argue when Thomas strode over to the pair.

"In the spirit of partnership and no longer being competitors, allow me to propose we stop being divided now we're all one team," John who had been about to speak listened, curious. "I'll drive Megan to Simpsons, John why don't you and Ben take one of the cars, I'll leave you gents to fight it out whether you go by Jag or Land Rover however," Thomas chuckled, his suggestion sounding natural and one which made perfect sense so when he placed the palm of his hand on the small of Megan's back firmly and led her away, it left her unable to protest or remove his grip without drawing uneccessary attention. Through hooded, dark-brown eyes Kingsley studied his subordinate leading away Rover's daughter with a blank expression.

Fresh air hit Megan like a slap, clearing her thoughts from the distraction that had been Thomas' hand and with a peek behind to ensure the remainder of the group weren't visible, she twisted away from him. "What the hell do you think you're doing, dragging me away," her eyes were essentially level with his in her black court heels. "As it happens I'm not going to the restaurant, so you can get in your car because I don't think I do echo that it was a pleasure to meet you after all, Thomas," she finished.

Thomas, glancing at the goose-flesh which appeared on Megan's sleeveless arms removed the jacket he had put back on after the meeting and placed it on the girl's shoulders. She was larger than he but it was only resting over her so their size difference didn't matter. From his pocket he took out his key fob and unlocked his CX-16 which emitted a sharp beep and flash of blinking lights to the left of them. "This way," he instructed, turning in the direction of the sports car.

"Didn't you hear me, I'm not going with you," Megan shrugged off the jacket, catching it despite the temptation to let it fall to the ground but she appreciated a nice suit and it wasn't its fault its owner was an ass. "Here, take it," she held it out, it dangling on two fingers precariously.

From his new position Thomas could see into the foyer, which remained empty. His eyes travelled from Megan's face to her hands, her haphazard way of holding something of his made Thomas' temper flare and with one deft movement his right hand took possession of the coat so it wouldn't drop and the other clamped painfully around Megan's wrist.

"Green?" he asked conversationally. 

Megan who was trying to pull free didn't answer and Thomas flexed his grasp infinitesimally before repeating his question, "what? No. Red!" Megan cried out.

"Don't lie. You do not play with this." Thomas brought his face closer, eyes boring into Megan's.

"OK, green. Green," she repeated a second time as if he hadn’t heard and while Thomas kept hold he ceased the contractions of his hand. She had been lying, his grip hurt but not to a point where she couldn't take it, she just didn't _want_ it. What gave him the right. But once again she was faced with the conundrum of what she would need to do in order to get him to let her go and that it would cause an almighty scene; his hold was like a vice and she would have to hit Thomas to break free.

"Good. We're going to walk somewhere a little more private, do you understand?" she nodded and they passed the various cars, including what looked like the one he had unlocked and went to the side of the large building. Land Rover's HQ was out of the way, out of town, and apart from soft lighting on the building to ensure the logo was visible it was dark once away from the glass panelled front. "I don't allow my girls to misbehave Megan, if they do it's my job to put them in their place. I told you once that you didn’t disobey me, that stands," Thomas had caged her against the wall, the cladding gelid in the middle of December and Megan did her best to not tremble from the cold. Thomas still didn't let go.

Glacial fury to match her surroundings ran through Megan and she fired back, "I am  _not_ one of your girls. You bought into Land Rover, you didn't buy me. We shared one night where I let you play at being in charge, nothing more."

"Unmemorable, as I recall?" Thomas was calm which infuriated Megan further as he referenced Megan's earlier dig and she shrugged, face thunderous at the arrogance of this man. "Ah, ah, use your words. Green?" Thomas tightened and Megan grimaced but nodded with clenched teeth.

“I took your lead, it was your first time meeting me, or were you hoping I might ask why you snubbed me. In front of my father or should I have come up to you after? I can forgive why you thought after our encounter I might be more wide-eyed and intimidated but you’re mistaken,  _daddy_. I blew off some steam and blew you, that's all,” she taunted, mouth twisting and voice acrid.

”I don’t mix my private life with business,” Thomas was keeping his tone measured, her attitude had him wanting to strike her then fuck her where she stood and the smile that played around his thin lips wasn’t pleasant.  “You did more than ‘blow me’ didn’t you, you lowered your pretty cunt over me and rode my cock until you’d milked it,” Thomas’ voice purred against the shell of Megan’s ear, breath hot and dangerous.

“And I don’t wait around for men who don’t contact me. Sorry if you expected me to remember you, your ego sounds quite fragile Thomas,” Megan’s own words didn’t betray that when he hadn’t gotten in touch with her, despite having her home address and workplace, it had stung. But then she had picked herself up and moved on, aside from using the memory of their encounter when she wanted solo fun.

”But you’ll wear their gifts,” Thomas took Megan’s right earlobe in his mouth and nipped, not harshly, just enough to surprise her, and Megan gave a startled jump, followed by an audible hitch of breath, one not of frustration or anger but pleasure and Thomas smirked knowingly.

”They’re too pretty to have been left lingering in a box.”

The smirk turned predatory and finally letting go of Megan’s arm Thomas took from his trouser pocket a small knife, pushing on the latch with his thumb so the blade shot out. “I couldn’t agree more, darling. Sadly we’re quite short on time, the rest of the cars drove away some minutes ago so you will have to be a good girl for me.” What that meant became clear a moment later when Thomas hiked up the skirt of Megan’s dress to her waist roughly bunching it, in one hand was still the knife, and used the blade to cut along first one side of her underwear then the other and pulled the fabric free, taking the ruined garment into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Properly shivering now she was even more exposed, Thomas leaned into Megan using his body to warm her. “This could have been done on my Bedard you wouldn’t be shaking from the cold and left exposed if you hadn’t acted like a brat, remember that.”

Megan wanted to snap at Thomas for his admonishment but the way he was pressed to her she could feel his erection and when his hands, both of them - she hadn’t noticed the knife being put away - stroked down her backside and squeezed her large bottom it made her respond with a moan.

”Say it,” he practically growled the command.

”Say what?” Megan’s words caught when Thomas chose that moment to part their bodies so he could clasp her pubis, cupping her with his broad hand.

”My name.”

”Thomas.” That wasn’t what he wanted and she knew, and in turn he knew that she did and what he wished for was the correct title without minus the disobedient inflection of earlier. A sharp bite to her right shoulder made Megan yelp and he held firm until she corrected herself. “Daddy!”

”Yes, little girl?” the amusement was back as he feigned concern.

”That hurt,” Megan practically pouted. This push-and-pull they'd had since the boardroom plus his long digits against her sex had brought out an often buried side of her.

”Punishments are supposed to, in contrast, rewards...” tailing off Thomas demonstrated what he meant by gliding along Megan’s slit with his index finger, letting it part her lips and applying pressure to her clit. No movement, he held himself taut as Megan let out breathy whimpers.

Tap.

Thomas had sprung his finger back and sent a shock through Megan as it landed on the cluster of nerves between her legs.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Megan had dropped her head onto Thomas’ shoulder, aware no longer of the uncomfortable gravel underneath her soles or the frigid air but concentrating on the texture of Thomas' suit against her cheek. On the scent that was mostly him with a touch of woody cologne. And of the maddeningly slow tap and hold action he was teasing her with. "Please," she begged.

"Please what? Please rub your aching cunt? Please fuck you with my fingers? Please fill you with my cock?" It was too dark to see even if Megan’s head has been facing him but Thomas' pupils had dilated and his dick twitched in his trousers impatiently.

"All. Any. Please," Megan repeated, grinding herself on those damned still fingers to no effect.

"No," Thomas pulled back, adjusting Megan's skirt down while her face reflected total incredulity. "I told you, punishments are meant to be unpleasant and you were so utterly rude and are not deserving of a reward,” he could see she was about to explode, to swear at him. Feeling kind enough to save her further punishment and taking same digit that had been between her legs, which smelled of her and had left his finger slick, Thomas placed it over her lips and silenced her. "If you behave yourself over dinner, Megan, I will take you somewhere and play with you until you’re begging instead that I stop. Would you like that?” Flushed with an equal mixture of desire and anger she nodded.

Removing the handbrake and putting the car into the correct gear Thomas pushed it into drive, his eyes on the road as they sped up, the engine rumbling. He was annoyed that the smearing the red of her lipstick around his shaft would require him to have patience for several more hours.


End file.
